The Gaunt Shack
by FrancescaPendragon
Summary: Author's Note: I wrote this piece for my English coursework, in 2012. The aim was to write in the style of one (J.K. Rowling) using the source material of another (Robert Browning's: porphyria's lover) It's a chapter that takes place in the last book and gives a bit of background on Lord Voldemort. Enjoy! Disclaimer: I don't own any of the content or characters in this story.


-Chapter Thirteen-  
**The Gaunt Shack**

In the depths of a forest, distant from civilization, had been a house. This house was nestled in the darkness, with trunks and vines wrapped around it. It seemed a very strange location to choose for a dwelling or else an odd decision to let it fall into such state of disrepair. The settlement appears to not be inhabitable at all. Within the mossy walls lay items from past inhabitants of the shack; broken chairs, stacks upon stacks of the Daily Prophet, portraits of family members coated in a thick film of dirt and cobwebs. Although those who once lived here were long gone, a fire flickered from the small fireplace in the living room, in front of which, a grand chair, one much like those upon a throne. On this very throne, lounged a cloaked figure, very aware of where he sat, slowly drumming his slender fingers upon the arm of the chair. The atmosphere seemed to have suddenly turned ice cold, and the repeated drumming had abruptly stopped. The fire flickered, and the cloaked being, for the first time he opened those snakes like eyes.

'Nagini?' He called to faithful companion.

"It's time." Somewhere in the darkness of the room, a slight hiss could be heard, as in agreement.

The figure rose from his throne but stayed facing the same way, looking deep into the fire, using the chair to steady him. A petite woman was harshly shoved into the room followed by two dementors whose presence could give a person nightmares for weeks. The cowering woman, who once only wore clothing that would flatter the contours of her body, wore a dripping cloak, three times her size. Her once milky white complexion had a cut from under her nose to the top of her blood red lips, would soon turn into an ugly scar. Her once luscious golden locks that fell down her back had been severely cut into an uneven length above her shoulders. Even with the signs of age, her dark green eyes still showed the innocence of a child. Despite all of this, she was still strikingly beautiful to him.

"You've done your job. You may go." He was speaking directly to the soulless beings who just hung in mid-air behind the small woman.

Once these creatures had dissolved into the darkness, what little emotion in the small room had returned. For a short time after, neither of them spoke until the small women seemed to pluck up the courage and all her questions tumbled out at once,

"Wh- Why I'm I here? What is this place? Who are you? I-"

"Ah Porphyria, you were always one for questions. Why this quaint establishment was the very place of my mother and her family, the descendants of Salazar Slytherin, which in turn, makes me a direct descendan. It's quiet fitting actually." He said flatly.

"I don't- You speak as if you know who I am," Porphyria questioned, the Irish accent could still be heard, a trait she had not lost.

Just then, everything seemed to click into place, Porphyria remember the tale of the Gaunt's shack, told to her by the strange boy she befriended in her first year of Hogwarts.

'Tom! Tom, is it really you? I've-'she was taken aback when he turned around to face her. Her heart gave a painful squeeze at the sight before her, '…What happened to you?'

'You mean before or after you learnt the truth about me?' he shot back with an edge of spite.

As if to test the water, Porphyria felt it was safe to do so, and edged towards where her once friend stood.

'You were always so lonely, I never had I doubt. Although you had your friends, it couldn't mask the pain. But the things you did to people, you terrified people Tom. What happened to that boy in the first year? The one who would sneak out into the library after hours and read tales by candle light. What happened to him?'

Porphyria never knew of the truth. His heritage; his witch mother falling for a muggle, who abandoned his wife and unborn child. Being the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, a parseltounge. Being in a muggle orphanage with cruel children who treated him roughly because he was different. The incident at the cave with the fellow orphans, Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson, where he performed an act so horrifying that the two orphans were traumatised into silence. The strange man coming to visit him in his place as residence, claiming he, himself was not much different from Tom, and how he could take him to somewhere he could use his gifts but he must follow rules if he were to stay there. Finding out he was the heir of Slytherin, and being able to control the Basilisk which lived deep within the school. Harming those who he did not seem fit to be at Hogwarts, muggleborn students. Murder of a fellow student. Framing another. Murdering those left of his bloodline. Splitting his soul in making the first Horcrux. Countless murders he never got caught for. And then the prophecy; the fall of the Dark Lord and the baby boy born in the seventh month who will destroy him.

'I changed,' he lied about his motives so easily.

However, Porphyria was naïve, even at her age, she knew from the first time she met him in the Slytherin common room, she could change him. Somehow. Save his damaged soul. And with this thought, she lifted her shaking hand to his cheek, but he moved away from the gesture of kindness. She dropped her hand by her side in defeat.

'I don't want your pity, pity is a human weakness,' he sneered.

Porphyria shook her head slightly and retreated away.  
Taking a breath and analysing the situation, she calmly asked, 'Why I'm I here, really? It's been at least twenty years since we last saw each other. So if you're trying to get back in contact with me, why now?'

The question had taken him aback slightly, so rather than waste any more time, he thought it be best to reveal his motives.

Whilst running his ghost like hand over the portrait above the fireplace in an admirable manner, 'I don't know how much you know of my true self, but it's time for the big reveal. A certain prophet had come to light of a boy born in the seventh month who would destroy me, everything I had built for my kind. Our kind. So, in attempts for this to fail, I've split my soul into seven pieces so, in retrospect, I can be immortal. I've planted these so called Horcruxs, in places no one should happen to find them and that boy, Harry Potter, cannot bring my demise. However, as this very house is a connection to my heritage, I thought it would be wise to keep one of them here. I put very powerful chants upon the Horcrux as it would deter anyone from taking them, and if they managed to, a very painful death would happen if they chose to wear it. I come back on this very eve to find it gone. So this means that my alliance is failing. I am in peril.'

Dumbstruck by the very notion of what has been said to her,' I don't… Are you saying you're going to fight a child because you don't want to die?'

'I believe I am finishing my ancestors work, of purging out the unworthy ones of magic and keep the muggles in their rightful place. Below wizards, outcasts, like they would if they knew of magical existence. And I'm not going to let a child stop me!'

The atmosphere in the room suddenly felt heavy with anguish as the words finally sunk in and every atom in Porphyria's body tried to fight the feeling of fear.  
'I want you to join me.' The most truthful words to have ever left Tom Marvolo Riddle's mouth.

'I want you to join me. Be on the winning side. We could be great.'

Porphyria couldn't believe what he was saying. Join him? She felt her knees give way and fell to the floor. Her vision impaired by tears and the brightness of the fire, all she could see in front of her was a black form towering over her.

'I can't do that!' Porphyria cried out. 'It goes against everything I believe in. I have a family; I can't just leave them to join you. I want to help you but not in this way. Not like this.'

'So you're willing to let the wizarding world fall. You're a pure blooded wizard. This should be your top priority!' Tom bellowed at her.

With a strangled cry Porphyria spoke her last words, 'He's just a child! But he's more of a wizard than you'll ever be!'

And with that, Tom walked past Porphyria towards the door of the living room. Before he left he turn swiftly on his heel to look one last time at Porphyria, she reminded of him much like a doe caught in the head lights. Scared. Alone. Moments from death. 'Nagini?' Tom's voice cracked, 'dinner.'

From the further side of the room, slithering could be heard, getting closer and closer, to where Porphyria was, now crying softly. Within the few seconds it took for Porphyria to turn to the direction of the slithering, the snake had managed to coil itself around her neck cutting off oxygen, and black spots appeared in her vision.

'Tom, I-,'She gasped

'Tom died a long time ago. Along with the values beheld in the wizarding world. My only identity is Lord Voldemort' and with that, he fled, far away, away from the innocent girl who had been his one and only friend. One last bloodcurdling scream could be heard from The Gaunt's shack and then, the eerie silence took over the forest once again.


End file.
